


The Ring

by OrangeChickenPillow



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Gen, Gift Giving, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Sleeping Together, Watching Someone Sleep, could be read as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeChickenPillow/pseuds/OrangeChickenPillow
Summary: Jaskier knew he meant something to Geralt, even if the Witcher wasn't always the most openly affectionate. When Geralt finds a dirty golden ring and thoughtfully gifts it to the bard, Jaskier is touched by the gesture.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	The Ring

**Author's Note:**

> I believe it's episode 6 when the ring first makes an appearance. I always wondered where Jaskier got it, and this little fic is just my mere speculation. 
> 
> No warnings, it's just tooth rotting fluff for this one :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Geralt found it in one of the large marketplaces they’d stopped at.

They’d needed supplies, but as opposed to going together, Jaskier stayed behind with Roach in the surrounding forest. The last time they’d ventured into a city together, Geralt and Jaskier had been separated, the bard getting pushed away and disappearing into the flow of the crowd.

They’d been apart for less than thirty minutes, but that was all it had taken for Jaskier to be singled out by a band of thugs and cornered in an alleyway. Geralt, who had been searching for him the second he discovered that Jaskier was no longer beside him, had detected the bard’s heartbeat in the midst of the crowd; While the group of thieves had been trailing Jaskier, so had Geralt. 

The Witcher arrived in just enough time to knock the men unconscious before they’d been able to do anything to the poor bard, who was understandably shaken up, though he tried to put on a tough facade. 

After such an incident, even Jaskier could agree that it was best for him to stay behind. 

Geralt gave the bard one of his swords, making sure to tell him if he lost it, he’d have hell to pay. But Geralt didn’t really care about that -- he just wanted the smaller man to be protected. Though, the Witcher doubted Jaskier would use the weapon, even if necessary. He didn’t doubt that Jaskier could, but the bard was the kind of person who wouldn’t hurt anyone, even if his life depended on it. 

So Geralt had told Roach to look after Jaskier while he was gone, then set out to buy their supplies as quickly as possible so he could return.  
Geralt didn’t like being in the cities anyway, and would do his shopping with as few delays as possible. 

He had just finished his purchases and was on his way out of the city when he saw it. 

It was so grimey that, to anyone else, it would have been unnoticeable against the grey dirt. But with his enhanced vision, Geralt spotted it easily. 

It was the color of a dirty lake, caked in thick mud while still managing to keep some of its shape. 

It was a ring. 

A flat octagonal front that was met on either side with the thick cylindrical band. Even with his enhanced vision, the Witcher couldn’t have guessed what color it was supposed to be. 

A little self consciously, Geralt stooped down in the street to quickly retrieve it. It felt cool and sticky, and he quickly pocketed it without a glance at the people around him, who were far too busy with their lives to take notice of a mutant behaving oddly. 

By the time he made it out of the city gates, he’d already forgotten about it. 

He got back to Jaskier and Roach, finding that both of them were safe and anxious to get moving again. 

Jaskier, who had been lounging against a tree and plucking at his lute in Geralt’s absence, hopped up at the sight of the Witcher. 

“How goes it,” the bard asked chipperly. 

“Fine,” Geralt rumbled in an even tone. 

He climbed onto Roach and looked down at the bard.

“Shall we,” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Right, lead the way,” Jaskier gestured for Geralt to go ahead. 

Tapping his heels against the mare’s side, they resumed their journey once more, and the ring remained forgotten, abandoned in the pocket of Geralt’s cloak. 

That is, until one dark evening several days later. 

The sun was well beyond set, and the last remaining droplets of light were soaking into the blanket of clouds that spread across the sky, lighting it up in shades of gold and purple.

They were camping under the stars, sitting by the fire Geralt had made, their blankets spread out across the cool, damp ground. 

Jaskier had been strumming on his lute, singing a soft, melancholic tune. Geralt listened silently, his eyes never lingering on the bard for long, but watching all the same. 

Finally, with a yawn, Jaskier wished Geralt a good night and curled up in his blanket. 

The bard was soon snoring softly, his chest rising and falling with his breath. 

Geralt did watch him then, his head tilted to one side as he thought about his companion. 

His friend. 

Suddenly, he remembered the ring. 

Reaching into the pocket where he’d left it all those days ago, Geralt pulled out the mud crusted piece of jewelry. 

It was dry now, and the ring was barely visible beneath all of the filth. Retrieving a cloth from his saddle, Geralt wet it with some water from his flask and settled back down by the dying fire. 

He worked on the ring well into the night, scrubbing away layer after layer of dirt until he finally began to see gold. 

It shone in the firelight, a modest but beautiful piece. 

The front of it, the octagonal section, was adorned with intricate carvings, almost like a king’s seal, which set it apart nicely from the smooth, simple band.

After he was satisfied that all remnants of mud were gone, Geralt twirled the ring around his fingers, examining it at every angle and thinking hard. 

Curious, he tried slipping it on to one of his fingers, but it was far too small, barely making it past his knuckles. 

Suddenly he looked over at Jaskier, still sleeping soundly. One of the bard’s arms was stretched out above him, and he was resting his head on his bicep. His hand was drooped gently on the ground, fingers slightly curled. Geralt looked at them, and then the ring. 

“Hmm,” he hummed softly. 

The next morning, Geralt, as per usual, had to rouse Jaskier several times before the bard was fully awake. 

After several threats were made on the Withcer’s part, Jaskier finally pulled himself from his blanket with an expression drunk from sleep and his hair sticking up on end; Truly a sight to behold. 

The Witcher turned around from Roach’s saddle, gave the bard one look and shook his head, unable to keep his face clean of a smirk. 

“Exactly what are you looking at,” Jaskier said slowly, his words slurring.

“Nothing,” Geralt said evenly. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Jaskier groaned quite dramatically, stopping down to cram his blanket into a bundle, shoving it into his bag. 

Geralt watched him, still smirking. 

“You know,” the Witcher started, “You’d think that after all these months of traveling with me, you’d have become more of a morning person.”

Jaskier straightened himself up, letting his arms dangle in an act of pouting. 

“Ah yes, and you’d also think that after months of being graced with my presence, you’d have a little more consideration for your dear human friend, but here we are,” the bard shot back, pretending to be offended.

“Hm,” Geralt said shortly, tilting his head, face covered in an expression of fondness. 

“Oi, stop looking at me like that,” Jaskier complained, leaning over to pull on his boots. 

“It makes it a lot harder to argue with you…”

There was a moment of silence as Jaskier gave his boot a puzzled look, causing Geralt to quickly turn his back on the bard, fiddling with a strap on Roach’s saddle. 

“What the hell is--” Jaskier turned his boot over, spilling something out onto the grass.

“What...” Jaskeir bent down to pick up what had fallen, squinting at it with his mouth set in an inquisitive line. 

Geralt scratched the back of his neck, pretending to adjust his saddle bag.

“Geralt,” the bard called from behind him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Why was there a ring in my boot?” The bard’s voice had raised an octave in his confusion.

The Witcher slowly spun around to find Jaskier standing, one hand holding the golden ring, the other on his hip. 

Geralt kept his face passive, and Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

“I found it,” Geralt said, sounding not unlike a caught child. 

“You… found it?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded. 

When he didn’t say anything else, Jaskier tilted his head forward with a questioning wiggle.

Geralt sighed, looking away.

“When we stopped at Four Maples for supplies. It was lying in the road, covered in mud,” he apprehensively explained.

Jaskier looked down at the ring, inspecting it closely, then looked back up at Geralt.

The bard’s face was covered with the awe and admiration that he was not doing a very good job of concealing.

“And -- let me get this straight -- you… picked up a dirty ring out of the middle of the road, and you cleaned it up… and somehow it ended up in my boot?” 

Geralt grunted, wishing the bard would stop talking. 

“Yes,” he said through slightly gritted teeth. 

Jaskier just stood there, looking dumbfounded. 

Then suddenly he asked, “Wait, it’s not for me, is it--”

Geralt looked up at the sky, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“Of course it’s for you, bard, why else would I have put it in your shoe?”

Jaskier opened his mouth for a moment, then looked at the ring again, holding it up and squinting at it. 

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s bag, tethering it to the saddle, then mounted Roach, glad to be done with the conversation. 

Rather than wait for when the bard was ready, Geralt spurred the mare forward. 

“Oi, Geralt, wait--” Jaskier called after him, stumbling to catch up. 

Once he was walking alongside the horse, Geralt snuck a glance at him. 

Jaskier had slipped the golden band onto his right ring finger; A seemingly perfect fit.

Geralt hummed to himself, pleased, but said nothing. 

They walked along in silence for several minutes, and Geralt had nearly forgotten about the whole exchange when Jaskier spoke up. 

“Thank you, Geralt,” he said sincerely.

Then, in a more teasing tone, added, “It is a dashing ring.”

The bard held his hand up and the gold sparkled in the sunlight.

Giving Geralt a sideways glance, he said, “Looks quite good on me, don’t you think,” with a charismatic wink. 

“Hm,” Geralt hummed shortly, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. 

Jaskier grinned at the ground, shooting several glances at his new token. 

Truth was, the bard was touched. The fact that Geralt had seen the ring and thought of him -- thought to pick it up and save it for him -- made Jaskier’s chest swell with love for the Witcher. 

Though Geralt could be a little short sometimes, and it might not always seem like he cared, Jaskier knew that he did. 

The ring on his finger proved it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/suggestions are always more than welcome :) 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @orangechickenpillow if you're interested
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
